


Leaders Lives

by Quiet_Shadow



Series: Project Regen Files [2]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Babies, Breastfeeding, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Sparklings, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2470121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Decepticons took over Cybertron. The Autobots had more or less resigned themselves to be enslaved or executed. They weren’t prepared, however, for the Decepticons to make them all go through frame regression and turn most of the population into Sparklings and Younglings.</p>
<p>But even for those who remains in adult/young adult frames, the situation is hard to deal with.</p>
<p>Just ask Ultra Magnus, forced to live in Megatron's house and caring for one of his subordinate-turned-Sparkling in what he considers a parody of domestic life, while fearing what might happen to him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There we are; a new part/character focus in the 'Project Regen Files'. By popular demand, Sentinel's fourth part will wait as the majority wanted to see what was happening with other characters. Sorry Witch08; you'll have to wait some more for more baby!Sentinel.
> 
> So, this time, we'll get a glimpse at Ultra Magnus, Optimus and Megatron -- plus some other characters as the story progress. Though for now, the bunnies are breeding on the medics side, so... Yeah.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the part. <3

“Ah… slowly, Optimus.”

Ultra Magnus -- his captors always denied calling him by his proper title, just referring to as ‘Ultra’ or ‘Consort Ultra’ if he was ‘lucky’ -- winced a bit as Optimus suckled on his… his energon pouches, since it was what they were called.

The Prime turned Sparkling glanced up at him with a sad, sorry look in his optics, momentarily stopping from… from sucking energon out, and Ultra Magnus held him a bit closer. “Shh, don’t worry, Optimus,” the Magnus whispered. “You can take as much as you want, you know that. Just… be careful, will you?” he said, trying to smile. Optimus looked at him for a moment before resuming his suckling, hiding his face against the large mech’s pouch.

It was, in a way, adorable. At the same time, however, Ultra couldn’t help but pity his subordinate. He knew Optimus had kept all of his adult mind’s faculties, and that the situation was as hard on him as it was on the Magnus, if not harder. He was, after all, far more helpless than Ultra was at the moment, unable to move or speak as he wished, and having to be constantly looked after.

Ultra Magnus sighed as he forced himself to relax in the couch, his hold on Optimus’ small body shifting slightly to ensure the shrunken mech was comfortable as well. His nubs felt sore, and having Optimus often craving for energon didn’t help. The large mech wished he had been able to offer bottled energon to the shrunken Prime, for he knew Optimus would be able to process it, but Megatron had vetoed it.

“Only natural energon,” he had ordered. “It is the best way for you to bond with our Sparkling after all, ‘Dear’.”

Ultra could still see him smiling smugly at him, red optics glinting with amusement as Ultra Magnus had fumbled to release his pouches and let Optimus refuel. It had been… hard to do so, and not only because he was unfamiliar with the system. It had also be psychologically hard to swallow, for a number of reasons.

Pit, he had had this particular part of his anatomy -- among other things -- removed when he had been a young mech! If he had them removed, it wasn’t for someone to reinstall them while he was in stasis! But as distressing as discovering the… ‘extras’ had been, Ultra Magnus had tried to steel himself as he activated his feeding lines for the first time. As reluctant and mortified he had been for doing so, Ultra couldn’t have just let the shrunken Prime starve – and starve he would have if Megatron had decided so.

Then again, Ultra had come to realize the Decepticon Warlord had some sort of soft spot for Optimus, so it was unlikely he’d let harm befall him. At the same time, Megatron was, well… unpredictable. And slagging confusing at times.

Why did he insist to… to try and court Ultra, for example? It made no sense. He was an old mech and Megatron’s sworn enemy, surely the Warlord couldn’t be attracted to him?

Then again… he wasn’t that old anymore, was he? His reflection was a sure proof he had lost quite a few vorns, even if his systems hadn’t let him know they worked much better.

Whatever the Decepticons had done to him, it had… changed him. Made him young again. When he glanced at himself in a mirror, he saw a face he hadn’t seen since he was a Cadet, millions of stellar cycles ago. On the plus side, even if his stature had diminished slightly, he had gained in strength and agility; if he really tried to escape, he may fight his way out. On the downside… he glanced around, spotting his current guard standing in a corner of the room, optics on him and Optimus, carefully taking notes of everything they did in order to report to his Lord.

Ultra Magnus resisted the sudden urge to tug at the collar around his neck. It wouldn’t be helping him at all. That thing couldn’t be removed unless he could get three different keys, two of which weren’t even in the house. One was always in possession of a guard. The second in possession of the medic who dropped by every now and then to check on him and Optimus. And the last in possession of Megatron himself. The collar itself, at least, was discreet enough.

But so long he had it around the neck, he couldn’t transform, couldn’t fight at his fullest… and couldn’t even leave the house without an escort. The Magnus scowled as he thought about what he had been told about the device. It was an ingenious device, he could admit as much, but slag if it wasn’t an annoying one.

Megatron, even if he was weird and had decided to make Ultra Magnus his ‘Consort’, wasn’t stupid. He knew very well Ultra would try to escape and ‘rally his troops’, as he had sneered more than once. The collar and the guards were his way to ‘gently’ put a stop to the Magnus’ attempts.

He didn’t understand fully the technology behind it – only Perceptor or Wheeljack would, he supposed – but he could see the effects plainly. The collar was, for a lack of other words, multipurpose, and composed of ‘intelligent’ systems, to the point it was as sophisticated as a drone. It was composed of several parts, all of which added their own restriction on the subject wearing it.

Firstly, the collar send small impulsions destined to short-circuit a mech’s transformation cogs, preventing him from changing form. It was, at the same time, coupled with an energy blocker that sent other impulses to weaken the wearer. Ultra had discovered it was sapping his strengths away, to the point he couldn’t raise a hand to fight even if he tried. He wasn’t as weak as a cyberkitten, but he wasn’t far from it.

He had made the painfully humiliating experience the first time he had tried to escape, just after having been brought ‘home’. He had tried to attack one of the guards… only to end up on the floor, ‘gently’ neutralized, arms held behind his back, a knee pressing on his back while someone commed Megatron to let him know about the incident. Ultra Magnus’ head had been ringing, and the only thing he could hear was Optimus’ cries in the background as someone tried to sooth him unsuccessfully. This hadn’t stopped him from trying again… and again.

Ultra Magnus glanced once more at the guard trying to be as oblivious as possible. The dozen or so mechs and Femmes that rotated on guard duty had orders to not bother him and wouldn’t talk to him unless he spoke to them first, and Ultra was fine with ignoring them most of the time. Still, each time he saw them, he couldn’t help but wonder just where Megatron had found so many mechs well-versed in the Cybertronian martial arts. The mechs who had brought him down the four times he tried to escape all did so while using Diffusion moves. Ultra Magnus knew the basics of the style, since Yoketron had taught it to all his pupils, but he hadn’t seen mechs use the style so fluidly aside of the full-fledged members of the Cyber-Ninja Corps before. And the Corps was almost extinct since the old Master’s untimely death…

On the whole, it was rather unexpected from Decepticons, who were known for their more violent tendencies, to know and use Diffusion. The Magnus couldn’t help but wonder just WHO had taught and trained them. However, he knew better than to ask, already knowing he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

He looked down again at Optimus who, obvious to his thoughts, was still suckling on his energon pouches. He seemed rather… peaceful, something that made Ultra feel a pang of sadness. How he wished things had been different.

Wistfully, he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. They circled back to the collar when he noticed a small red light atop one of the nearby closed door, and the Magnus couldn’t help but grimace.

Aside of blocking his transformation and downplaying his strength, the collar also restricted his moves. The collar contained high-tuned sensors, which worked with others all around the house. Waves and signals were exchanged between them, blocking or opening doors before Ultra whenever he passed by them. As such, he could access freely to some parts of the large house -- the berthrooms, the kitchen area, the living room -- while others were restricted and wouldn’t open for him. Such was the case for Megatron’s office, for example, and in general, for any door leading outside and the windows.

Ultra wasn’t strictly forbidden from setting a pedes outside, of course. He could eventually access the large back garden, provided two guards were with him to grant him access by temporarily disabling the collar’s sensors. The Magnus had once thought about using the opportunity to make a run for it, but had been forced to dismiss the idea. First off, the property was surrounded by tall walls he’d have a hard time passing without someone seeing him. Secondly… well, he couldn’t just leave Optimus behind.

He looked down again at the shrunken Prime. He was so… vulnerable in that state, and the very thought of leaving him alone with Megatron filled Ultra Magnus with dread. Granted, Megatron had been nothing but nice and ‘loving’ with Optimus, bringing him toys and games and silly videos of ‘cartoons’ produced by the Decepticons, cuddling with the shrunken Prime and laughing at what he considered to be ‘cute antics’, but… Well, he was still MEGATRON, and Ultra wasn’t about to trust him with one of his subordinates.

Especially given what he had done to so many of his Autobots!

Just how many of them were left adult after the Decepticons had launched their ‘Project Regen’? Ultra Magnus had no way to know exactly, but he knew most of his trusted subordinates were now as helpless as Optimus, unable to defend themselves should the Decepticons decide to hurt them. Perceptor, he knew, hadn’t been as affected, nor had been Wheeljack. It led him hope the mechs he had fought the War with where still alright. Still themselves.

Not that Optimus wasn’t still himself, Ultra Magnus amended. He just… wasn’t able to do anything.

Gently, Ultra Magnus shifted his hold so Optimus could access the second pouch. The tiny mech latched on the offered nub with gusto, and it almost made the Magnus smile, even as he winced a bit due to the soreness of the aforementioned nub. Sometimes, it felt like refuelling was about the only thing the shrunken Prime did; Ultra was forced to power and fill his pouches several time a solar cycle to satisfy the little mech’s appetite. It had worried him at first, afraid as it was that the Decepticons’ project had actually hurt his young subordinate. The medic that came to check on them, however, said it was normal for a… Sparkling. The little beings had great need in energy but their fuel tank couldn’t contain much at time, so they needed more refuelling that an adult mech.

Sparkling. It was weird to think of Optimus as one. It wasn’t that Ultra wasn’t familiar with the word, unlike the younger generations. It felt unnatural, however, to think of the Prime as such. Optimus was a… a normal mech. He wasn’t supposed to be a Sparkling. Sparklings had been all but extinct on Cybertron, especially after the Council decided that kindling was outdated and that Allspark-infused protoforms was better for the population.

The very notion his Autobots had been reduced to Sparklings was shocking to say the least. He sometimes wondered if, had he been younger, he’d have ended in the same state as Optimus and the others. The idea was definitely weird and alarming.

Optimus’ suckling was starting to decrease, indicating that the shrunken Prime’s tank was almost full. Ultra felt some relief at that. Even after almost a vorn of daily feeding Optimus this way, he still felt awkward and ashamed of this way of making his subordinate refuelling. The Prime, granted, didn’t seem so bothered anymore, but as he couldn’t voice his thoughts, Ultra could only guess what he was thinking and feeling.

“Almost over, eh, Optimus?” he asked gently, and the Sparkling Prime briefly let go of the nub in his mouth to chirp at him. Ultra felt himself smiling down at the shrunken mech without thinking. Almost absentmindedly, he tightened his grip on Optimus’ small body, hugging him gently. Optimus chirped once more before yawning, making the Magnus chuckled. “Tired, aren’t you? Well, it might be high time for a nap. Though perhaps we ought to change your nappy first,” he mused aloud.

Optimus’ small face fell and he looked embarrassed. Ultra petted him gently, smiling joylessly. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he sighed. “It’s not fun, but…” he shrugged a bit. Optimus made another small sound, indicating how miserable he felt. The ‘nappies’ thing was a real problem, but something else the medics and everyone else thoughts was ‘perfectly normal for a Sparkling’.

From what Ultra Magnus had gathered, Sparklings’ bodies were prone to misconnections. Said misconnections often lead to systems purging themselves or overworking in some fashion, which in turn lead to leaks of transmission fluids or oil that the body evacuated through the exhaust port. Sparklings were unable to control it, sadly, and the misconnections causing the leaks could last quite a while. They, supposedly, stopped on their own when the Sparklings were around forty to fifty vorns, and from then on, the ‘nappies’ weren’t necessary anymore.

Given Optimus was supposed to be around fifteen, perhaps sixteen vorns, the poor Prime would have to deal with the occurrence for still a while.

Ultra Magnus petted him gently, trying to be comforting. “It’s alright, Optimus. It’s alright,” he repeated, hugging the little mech a bit more strongly. Optimus chirped again, seeming still sad but less miserable already.

Still holding him close, Ultra rose from the couch and turned to the guard. “I’ll put him in his crib and will go lie down for a while,” he said, trying to be polite. “I’d appreciate not to be disrupted,” he added, knowing that unless he asked for privacy (which was not often granted), the guards would stay in the room while he recharged. This wasn’t exactly what Ultra called ‘restful’. He was already having trouble recharging at night, when Megatron insisted on laying by his side in the same berth, so to have someone else invade his personal space and watch over him while he tried desperately to rest?

In the end, he had almost lost his nerves before he had been able to reach a compromise with the guards; so long Ultra let the door wide open, they accepted to stand outside. They, however, would remain vigilant, and the Magnus was unlikely to be able to bypass them. But at least, he could recharge without feeling intent optics on him, which was a relief in itself.

The guard nodded. “Of course, Lord Consort. Rest well, you and the little Prince.”

Ultra Magnus nodded curtly before leaving the room, another guard following him as he walked the corridors to the ‘Master Berthroom’. He paused uneasily at the door.

The room was… well, it was nice, painted in soft, neutral colors, very sunny due to a good exposition to Cybertron’s sun, and the few paintings on the walls added a little welcoming touch. There was a crib to the side, put there for Optimus, even if the shrunken Prime had his own berthroom on the other side of the corridor. And there was the berth.

Large enough for Ultra Magnus and Megatron to still have some place, padded for the comfort, adorned with covers and pillows, it was… Well, recharging here was supposed to be pleasant, but Ultra had never felt perfectly at ease here. He kept spending his night, optics wide open, waiting for Megatron to drop the façade and just… do something. It was, to Ultra’s shame, his worst fear. He kept waiting for Megatron to finally drop the mask of civility and pleasantness and just… do to him what the Magnus knew he wanted to do. Oh, the Warlord hadn’t stated it outwardly, but the Autobots’ leader knew. Besides, Megatron wasn’t as… subtle as he may thought he was. Or did he think Ultra an idiot?

Whatever. So far,... what Ultra feared hadn’t happened. The Warlord may kept insisting they recharge together, but he had never do… anything to Ultra, aside of holding him against him.

Still, the Magnus knew that sooner or later, Megatron would.

That was why the berth still felt wrong to him. If he had had the choice, he would have requested a guest room to rest. However, since he was reluctant to have Optimus out of his sight and since it was the only room with both a berth large enough for him and an appropriate crib for the young Prime…

Shaking his head, he walked to the crib and put Optimus inside, gently putting a cover over him. The Prime, by habit, grabbed one of the plush toys aligned against the bars, a pneuma-lion in silver and golden hues, and hugged it against his frame, burrowing his face in the soft fur. Ultra’s lips twitched as he fought down a smile.

It was cute.

Then, feeling more wary and at the same time exhausted, he went to lie on the nearby berth, body and face turned toward Optimus, watching him slowly sinking down into recharge with an easiness that always surprised the Magnus. But then again, Optimus’ small frame did run at a different pace than him, and he went through recharge cycles twice as more as an average mech.

Ultra watched him for a while before sighing and starting to depower his systems. He felt so tired… and he needed the rest before Megatron came back home. He couldn’t deal with the mech without having recuperated beforehand. His optics offlined as he wondered what the Warlord would bring home for Optimus this time.

He was asleep before he could take a guess…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron comes home... and discovers something that had escaped his notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! After a long wait, here's the next chapter! I hope you'll like :)

Megatron transformed and stretched with a relieved sigh. Ruling an Empire was a tiring job, much more than he had first anticipated. Especially given how some planets from the Commonwealth tried to stir troubles, with pockets of escaped Autobots Elite Guard members trying to regroup and launch assaults on his troops.

Silly mechlings, he thought with a sneer. He had instructed his troops to take as many of them alive as possible, but he had been quite insisted on the necessity for his soldiers to retaliate should they come under attack, no matter how supposedly youngs the assailants could be. It might be cruel, of course, but if the silly little mechs wanted to act like grown ups… In his mind, still, he cursed the foolishness of the Autobots, and he cursed even more the Council of old for having made the choice to just send such young Sparks into battle, thrusting them in adult frames when they were all but mere Sparklings who should have been nursed and raised to adulthood by caretakers or surrogate Creators…

Thankfully, it would never happen again. And as soon as they rounded the last fighting ones, he’d be able to honestly say the Autobots and their abhorrent practices would be no more.

Then he could get fully focused on more worrisome things, such as the Quintessons’ possible invasion threat. He knew they were eyeing the events occurring on Cybertron closely, and Megatron knew the whole lot bore watching, just in case. It was doubtful they would act right away, but he wouldn’t put it past them to take advantage of the… power change in the Commonwealth to try and land assault of their own on the planets of the border. He had already given orders to some of his troops to patrol the border, in a show of strength. With the Space Bridges in their hands, however, it was just for show; he’d be able to send any number of troops anywhere by using the Autobot technology.

He had to give that to them, the young mechs had been very creative. Perhaps too much.

It’d made him glad that all the Autobots they had managed to subdue upon their conquest of Cybertron were back to the stage of their development they were supposed to be at given their Sparks actual age. Well, most of them anyway. Of course, even if their bodies now matched the Spark’s development, their processors remained far more mature than they should be. Sadly, it couldn’t be helped, but Megatron didn’t think it would be a real problem anyway. Young bots could still be cherished and pampered and be educated right, it would only take some time. They could be brought around, so long they had attentive Creators to take care of them and their needs.

Shaking his head, he walked toward the large house he had claimed as his when Cybertron had finally be conquered. It had once belonged to some Senator the Decepticon Warlord hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. The mech had all but handed the house to him in hope the Warlord wouldn’t kill him. Megatron didn’t intend to. Not before a trial showed just how much corrupted the mech was, of course, and he had little doubt the mech was guilty of something or another.

But, back to the house. Megatron nodded at the guards at the outside wall as he passed by. It wasn’t the most luxurious or the biggest house around; bigger, richer ones abounded in the district. This one, however, was more easily defendable, as it was ideally situated on higher ground, and its high, thick walls would not be easily breached. It was ideal to keep possible assailants out… but also to keep the people inside safe and secure. His new Sparkling would definitely be held safe behind them. And so would his new mate, though the mech didn’t seem to appreciate Megatron’s idea of security.

Granted, in Ultra’s case, the walls were more to keep him in than anything else.

He smirked as he thought of the Magnus… well, former Magnus. Such a stubborn mech… but it was part of the mech’s charm and one of the reasons Megatron had chosen him as a mate. 

Some of his troops had been a bit puzzled by his choice, for after all, Ultra Magnus was the enemy, the Autobots leader. Surely, he should have been executed? Megatron would lie if he said he hadn’t toyed with the idea, pondering what would be the best course of actions from now on.

There were plenty of official reasons to keep the former Magnus around, most of them politicals in nature: keeping their ‘Magnus’ alive showed Autobots and members of the Commonwealth alike he wasn’t such a monster. It allowed him to also make his claim to power more legitimate -- a Magnus’ Consort usually held a lot of it, even if not in the military field. Of course, Ultra was HIS Consort, not the other way around, but to simple processors and Sparks, it was sufficient to give Megatron a level of legitimacy he couldn’t have enjoyed otherwise, especially among some of the aliens species Cybertron had tentative treaties with.

Other official reasons were more military oriented: Ultra Magnus had lead the opposing forces for millions of stellar cycles, and although Autobots had been doomed to fall -- or so the Decepticons liked to claim -- the Magnus had given them quite a fight and had proven to be a great General, who didn’t shy from hard decisions and who could come up with surprisingly ruthless solutions. The Project Omega and its Supremes came to mind; without them, Decepticons would have won stellar cycles ago…

Oh yes, Ultra was no Primus herald, and in some twisted ways, some Decepticons, Megatron included, couldn’t help but admire it for that. The Magnus had proven to be quite a strategist, and one could never know when such a mind could come in handy. It was the same reason he was planning to spare the scientist Perceptor, after all. Megatron could still make use of Ultra’s mind… though he’d rather make good use of his body, he thought with a small smirk.

His choice wasn’t the most popular, the Warlord knew it. But, for some of his troops, only a strong mech could hope to make a halfway decent Consort to their leader, and Ultra had proven himself to be a strong mech. Thus why, despite some whispering, his choice regarding Ultra had been accepted, if not always well-received by some of his most… enthusiastic troops. None, however, would dare to challenge him, for which Megatron felt some grim satisfaction. Hopefully, now that the first gladiatorial pit was about to be opened, the remained unconvinced ones would find a way to better occupy their time.

Shaking his head and nodding at two more guards who snapped at attention as he passed before them, he thought of the less official reasons he had chosen Ultra.

The mech was easy on the optics, and had caught Megatron’s optics for his looks even when he was a simple Prime. He hadn’t done anything to approach him back then, though. Tension had been running high already between Autobots and Decepticons, and Megatron had needed all of his wits and time to go against Powered Convoy Magnus on the political scene; he couldn’t decently find the time to try and woo another mech at the time.

And, of course, there had also be the matter of Ultra’s age back them. As a protoformed mech, the former Magnus had been quite… young, despite his adult looks. Wooing him when he was only a couple of vorns old, barely more than a Sparkling, would have been… wrong. Decepticons in general didn’t believe protoformed mechs had the maturity necessary to make life-committing decision until they were several hundred of vorns old, just like kindled Sparklings, and that as such, they should be treated like Sparklings themselves. To enter a relationship with one who was basically a Sparkling… Ugh.

The mere idea was revolting. ‘Good’ mechs didn’t touch Sparklings, period.

It didn’t meant Megatron hadn’t taken notice of Ultra Prime, and had made a note to watch out for the mech and see if, perhaps, he would be interested in a courtship once he was older. Then the rumors Ultra was on the fast track to become Magnus had started to fly, and the Decepticon Warlord had been forced to abandon the idea, especially once it was proven the rumors were true and the newly dubbed Ultra Magnus’ first act was to pass the Decepticon Registration Act…

Megatron almost snarled as he remembered that.

Stupid youngster; in the end, the War had truly started because of him. Well, it would have happened sooner or later, Megatron relented, but Ultra’s decision had just made things start up much sooner than he would have liked or than he had planned.

Oh, well. No need to cry on spilled oil.

Now, the war was officially over, Project Regen had been perfected and launched, Autobots now in what Decepticons liked to consider to be their ‘proper state’, and Ultra… was of legal age, even once the effects of time on his frame had been reversed. Thus, Megatron was perfectly within his right to claim him as mate, even if Ultra prefered to think of himself as a ‘spoil of war’.

His lips twitched upward. Stubborn, as he had said. But there were ways around this stubbornness. Optimus, for one.

Now, he had never eyed the young Prime in the way he had once eyed -- and still eyed -- Ultra. But Optimus had caught his attention all the same, a bright, eager Spark with a lot of potential. So when Project Regen had been launched on their prisoner, he had made sure the young Prime was one of the firsts to undergo the process, right after Ultra, and had immediately claimed custody of him.

And now, he had a mate and a Sparkling, waiting for him at home every night cycle. He chuckled at the thought.

Ultra still had a lot to learn about his new function, and he still needed to be ‘tamed’, so to speak, but nobody could ever accuse him of not caring for Optimus. The way he wasn’t letting the Sparking out of his sight was quite telling, and the former Magnus had rather diligently learned how to properly nurse Optimus and how to change the little Sparklings nappies.

Of course, Megatron had to… ‘encourage’ him to do so, but Ultra had now settled in the habit of doing so and never protested about it anymore. At least, not aloud, or not where Megatron or one of the Guards could hear him. Megatron loved to watch him care for ‘their’ Sparkling, like a good Carrier. Magnus had still much to learn, but events had proved he was quite able to. As for Optimus, the Sparkling was perfectly healthy and was finally starting to ‘come out of his shell’, as it had been noted in the last report.

The two of them together were a lovely sight in their own right, though Megatron couldn’t help but imagine Optimus playing with a few siblings. Red-opticed siblings, that’s it, while a smiling Ultra with a rounded belly watched over them quietly.

Hopefully, this dream could become a reality sooner rather than later. He just needed Ultra to relent to the idea.

Which… was easier said than done, he had to admit, for as he has stated, Ultra could be… quite stubborn and, Megatron suspected, rather naive about certain things. Most protoformed mechs were. It wasn’t their fault, of course; nobody had taught them better, that was all. But, as the Decepticons had come to learn, most of them didn’t even know they had interface components, and even less idea of how to use them.

On one hand, it could be amusing to see them discover these components, and it definitely was… enrapturing to see them in pleasure for the first time as their seals were broken. There was something very entertaining about seeing protoformed young mechs learn where kindled Sparklings came from, and a good part of them turned out to be most eager to try and produce one.

On the other hand, it was frustrating to see these same protoformed mechs not getting the hint about what a potential lover wanted, especially when said potential lover wanted nothing more than to take them to the nearest berth and frag them senseless. There was also mechs who, scared by the reveal, refused to have anything to do with interfacing and who had to be gently reassured and guided, for a lack of better term, before they accepted to… experiment.

Megatron was starting to wonder in which category Ultra fell. At any rate, he was starting to feel increasingly frustrated by the situation. Ultra was supposed to be his Consort, and as such, the Warlord was in his right to ask some… ‘things’ from him. Especially in the berthroom. He was, however, reluctant to force the issue, especially since he thought he had a good idea of why Ultra was so… ‘shy’, should he say.

The mech was obviously still in shock. That much, Megatron could grudgingly understand. With the Decepticons’ victory, Ultra had lost almost everything… except his life. Even if, in Megatron and most Decepticons’ mind, he was now in a more… ‘fitting’ position considering his age and his status, the truth remained that Ultra had been a planetary and a military ruler, used to be in and give command and to be overworked. Now, he was cooped up in a lavish house, with only a Sparkling to occupy his mind… Yes, Megatron could understand the proud mech being tense and unhappy.

Now, if Ultra showed himself to be cooperative, Megatron saw nothing wrong with taking him outside. They could have a fancy dinner in one of Iacon’s restaurant, then go see a spectacle together while Optimus was in the care of a nanny -- or on a playdate with one of his fellow Sparklings. But so far, the former Magnus had been most uncooperative, refusing to do anything other than hold small talks, and that was when Megatron insisted and held Optimus. Though he did lay with Megatron in the berth at night, the Warlord wasn’t blind to the way the mech tensed when Megatron put an arm around his waist and held him close, nor had the glances Ultra kept giving the door escaped him.

To say Ultra was still uncomfortable was an understatement. So Megatron hadn’t tried to do anything more… yet. At least, he didn’t try to break further into Ultra’s comfort zone. Instead, he tried to be subtle and… raise the other mech’s interest.

Which, sadly, was very slow-going.

He refrained himself to sigh. Yes, Ultra was a most stubborn mech. Megatron, though, felt confident he could bring him around. Hmm… perhaps he needed to take a more direct approach in order to succeed? He smirked a bit at the thought. He glanced around the living room, half-hoping to see his mate and young Optimus in it. He liked to see Optimus play. It at least made him feel something in this house was going alright. The little one wasn’t as fussy as Ultra; though he often seemed wary, he let Megatron handle him without whimpering nowaday. And he seemed to take a real interest in the toys the Warlord kept bringing him, even if Megatron half-suspected it was only out of boredom. Even if it was, it was a progress the large grey mech felt proud of. He was very proud of his little one, and he couldn’t wait to show him around. But Optimus was still such a little, fragile thing… he couldn’t get out without his Mama. And his Mama… needed more time.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, reaching for his subspace pocket and bringing out today’s treats. He made sure to bring things for both the Sparkling and Ultra every cycle. Well, he mainly did so for Optimus; Ultra has the nasty habit to refuse the gifts in a rather flamboyant way. Today, he had brought his precious baby a new plush toy, and a box of energon goodies for his mate. Hopefully, the mech wouldn’t throw them at him this time.

He frowned a bit. Some of the Sparkling’s toys were abandoned on the floor, but there was no trace of the little one and his adoptive Mama.

“Takedown,” he called to one of the guards he saw patrolling the corridor.

“Lord Megatron, Sir,” the mech saluted as he came to an halt.

“Where are my mate and Sparkling?” he rumbled, optics narrowed. Had Ultra tried once more to attack a guard and escape? The foolish mech hadn’t do so in a several orns, but that didn’t meant he hadn’t done another attempt. But if that had been the case, surely he would have been commed earlier; the guards stationed at his home were among his most loyals, handpicked by him, and diligent in informing him of anything of interest happening around here. From Ultra’s glancing through a datafile to Optimus’ favored toy of the day, nothing escaped their notice.

“Upstair, recharging, Sir,” Takedown answered curtly, standing straight. “Young Prince Optimus was put down for a nap after Consort Ultra finished nursing him one megacycle ago. Consort Ultra also indicated his intent to rest at the same time. Both are currently in the Master Berthroom, still in recharge. Should I send someone upstair to see if they’re awake or, should they still be asleep, wake them up and tell them you’re back?” he asked respectfully.

Megatron smiled a bit and waved him off. “No, it’s alright. I’ll go join them and wake my mate up myself,” he said with a nod.

Takedown nodded. “As you wish, Sir. Should I prepare two cubes of energon for you and Consort Ultra?”

“Hmm, yes. Something light. You’ll set them on the table in the dining room. I’ll pick them up later. Oh, and you’ll put that on the table with the cubes,” Megatron said as he handed the box of goody and the plush toy to the smaller mech, turned and left the room without a look back, knowing Takedown would obey his orders and that he’d insure no one tempered with the energon.

He climbed the stairs and walked over the Master Berthroom without making a noise, nodding sharply at the mech guarding the open door who saluted as he came near. By gestures, he relieved him of duty and the mech, nodding, left as swiftly and quickly as possible. Megatron stood against the doorframe for a moment, watching Ultra’s sleeping form on the berth.

The blue and white mech was lying on his side, an arm under his head, the other close to his body. His optics were darkened, his face relaxed, his lips slightly parted. He looked very peaceful in that moment, and Megatron smiled down at him in a benevolent manner. He wished Ultra could be more relaxed in his company, if such a pretty face was the result when he was soothed.

Glancing a bit further, the large grey could see Optimus’ crib, the little Sparkling curled around a large pneuma-lion plushie, little helm pressed against the soft fur. He almost cooed at the sight. How utterly adorable.

His gaze fell back on his usually tense mate and he smirked as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. Time to try and get his Consort to… notice him.

*-*-*-*-*-*

There was something brushing against his plating, Ultra Magnus started to dimly realize as he shifted, still half-asleep. It felt soft, and warm, and for a moment, he thought it might be the edge of a cover. Perhaps one of guards had decided to cover him while he recharged? It had happened before, when a ‘bot he didn’t remember the name of decided the room was too cold for the Consort’s systems.

But… it didn’t feel like the softness of fabric. He shifted again, a small moan escaping him as whatever was brushing against him went right over a part of his plating covering a sensitive bundle of sensors. There were other brushes over his frame, on his chest and hips, and he moaned again. It didn’t feel that bad…

And then he heard the chuckle.

The unexpected noise, that deep rumble, was so shocking to hear it tore him from the remaining of sleep right away, optics snapping wide open and he turned violently, instinctively trying to sit. Strong, large hands grabbed his shoulders and Ultra started to thrash blindly, wanting them off NOW! Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he have dropped his guard like that? How could he had not realized what was happening?

“Aww, dearest, no need to be so fearful,” Megatron said, breaking off the small kisses he had trailed over the former Magnus’ body, visibly amused as he let go of Ultra’s shoulders, only to grasp his wrists instead. Smirking, he couldn’t resist teasing his Consort. “Did I surprise you that much? You didn’t seem so adverse to my touch before now…”

“Release me! Immediately!” Ultra hissed between clenched dental plates. He continued to trash, desperate to break Megatron’s hold on his wrists, far too aware of how close the other mech was to him, and of the knee that rested between his thighs. He tried not to shudder and redoubled his efforts to free himself, even if deep-down, he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He just didn’t have the strength to push Megatron off, that slagging collar made sure of that. “Let go,” he insisted, his voice gaining in volume, making Megatron frown.

“Now, now, mind your manners and your voice, Ultra. You’re going to wake up Optimus,” he said, nodding toward the crib where their adopted Sparkling was still resting among his plush toys.

“I don’t care! Release me right now!” Ultra all but shrieked, twisting his body in any and every direction, feeling more and more panicked.

Megatron’s frown deepened as he became more and more displeased by Ultra’s frantic attempts at escaping him. Really, the mech was becoming unreasonable. “Calm down,” he rumbled. “I was not doing anything bad,” he tried to soothe the agitated mech. Primus, how skittish the mech could be! It was only caresses and a few kisses! Protoformed mechs sometimes freaked out upon being introduced to physical intimacy, but it was getting ridiculous! “Am I not allowed to kiss my own Consort?” he tried to tease the mech.

Ultra shook his head violently. “You certainly are not! Get off!” He kicked and, by some luck, managed to hit the Warlord’s knee. Even with decreased strength, the hit run true and the grey meck actually grunted in pain. Whatever satisfaction the former Magnus could have felt about it was quickly squeeched, though.

Megatron grimaced, but didn’t release Ultra. In the contrary, his hold on the other mech’s wrists tightened, to the point Ultra gasped in pain. “Release me!”

“I don’t think so,” Megatron grunted, feeling his patience running thin. Ultra was being completely unreasonable, and it was starting to get on his processor. He had tried to be patient, to be nice and draw the mech out of his shell, but if the former Magnus continued to act like that, then the Warlord wouldn’t be able to answer of his acts. “Would you stay still?” he growled, getting tired of the smaller mech’s fruitless struggles. Ultra didn’t answer him, still trying to twist his frame out of his grasp. Megatron’s optics narrowed. At this rate, the mech was going to injure himself, and that wouldn’t do.

Grunting, he just… pushed the mech down on the berth, pinning him underneath him, holding his wrists in a firm grasp on the mattress on either side of Ultra’s head. Megatron ended up straddling the blue and white mech’s hips, not allowing any room to move. Ultra could kick as much as he wanted, he wouldn’t be able to dislodge him. The former Magnus shrieked.

And suddenly, there was silence. Megatron’s optics narrowed. What…?

Then, he realized, and he almost gasped in shock. He looked at the former Magnus with new optics.

The smaller mech’s jaw was hanging open, but no sound came out. His optics were wide open, and in them, the Warlord could see a deep, uncontrollable terror. A terror he was well-familiar with, having encountered victims caught in unpleasant memory feedbacks before. His hold on the former Magnus’ wrist tightened by reflex, and it was enough to draw a single sob out of the mech.

Megatron looked down at his Consort with an undefinable look. “Who hurt you?” he asked tonelessly.

Ultra’s optics seemed to widen even more, if it was possible, as he opened his mouth to answer that he... 

_… remembering the way he had tried to crawl away from the larger mech, his whole frame shaking, energon spilled on the ground, testimony to his attempt at resisting. He was a Prime, a trained fighter, he had studied with Yoketron to better himself, for the Allspark’s sake! He should have won! But he had ended up the one on the floor, and even as his assailant loomed over him, he was trying to escape, only for large, strong hands to grab his hips and pull him back. Something nudged him between the legs, where a metal panel had once been resting. Ultra could see it a few feet away, lying in the dust, properly ripped off. He hadn’t know it was removable…_

_It was his last coherent thought before he felt something ram inside him, in that part of him he didn’t even know existed, and then there was only painpainpainpainpainpain as he screamed to the sky…_

… didn’t know what Megatron was talking about. “No one,” he let out in a choked gasp.

Megatron’s optics didn’t leave his face. “For a mech who lead armies, you lie very badly,” he rumbled. “Who hurt you?” he repeated.

Ultra turned his head to the side, refusing to look at his captor. “I told you, no one hurt me,” he said, and it was barely a whisper.

“Who?” Megatron repeated, looming closer, his mind reeling with the revelation. He wanted Ultra to admit it, to hear it from him.

The former Magnus let out a shaky, broken, humorless laugh. “Why do you care anyway?” He refused to look at Megatron, he refused to start leaking optical fluid, but it was so hard… He swallowed. “You have me where you wanted anyway, so why don’t you just do… **it** and be done with me? Go ahead, it’s not like I could stop you even if I tried.”

Megatron physically startled at the unveiled accusation. “I certainly don’t intend to…” he started, eyeing his Consort with some shock.

Ultra laughed again, with that awful broken, humorless tone. “Who’s the liar now, Megatron?” He turned his head to stare at the Warlord, his frame shaking. “You think I hadn’t noticed? You think I didn’t know exactly what you wanted from me, the moment I woke up after that… that ‘Regeneration’? Did you think me blind? Or stupid? Did you think I missed the way you… rubbed your pelvic armor against my backside when you forced me to share that berth?” he laughed brokenly. “Do you think I didn’t know you purposely made me ‘catch you’ watching that… that disgusting display downstairs, while you… you touched that awful thing between your legs? Oh yes, I know you arranged for me to do just that, to take a good glimpse of you before I backed off and run back to the nursery to watch over Optimus,” he continued, his laugh almost turning hysterical as he did so.

Megatron winced a bit at the reminder. He remembered that time. It had been something suggested by Shockwave as a way to perhaps try and make Ultra’s curious about his extra body parts. The idea was to try and get Ultra interested in interfacing by having him glimpse at a pornographic movie, as well as Megatron’s spike. It was a well-known strategy among the kindled mechs who wanted to try and court shy or unaware protoformed mechs, and one which was often met with good results.

Shockwave had used it on an Autobot he had been courting under his Longarm’s disguise, claiming to have found the movie in old Intelligence Archives and asking the ‘bot to watch it with him, because he ‘couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing’. One thing had lead to another, and watching mechs going at it had rendered the Autobot very curious indeed, and Shockwave had ended up having a very passionate, if hidden, relationship with his secretary. What was the mech’s name again? Cliff-something, he thought.

It had sounded like a good idea, and when he had heard Ultra’s coming up behind him, pausing at the entrance of the living room as he was stroking himself, his seat turned just right so he could pretend not notice his visitor but also to let that visitor see what was standing proudly erected between his thighs… Well, he had been amused by Ultra’s quick retreat, but confident enough the mech had been flustered and would ask questions on what he saw, sooner rather than later.

Yes, ‘showing the goods’ and revving a mech with pictures was usually a good strategy…

But not when the mech you were trying to seduce that way had been raped.

Megatron could have kicked himself. How could he have been so blind? How had he missed the difference between a protoformed mech who didn’t know anything about interfacing and a mech who had been… forcefully introduced to the process? It explained so much about Ultra’s tenseness, so much about his profound distrust of Megatron and the guards...

Granted, part of it was due to their status as Decepticons, but still…

He should had have noticed!

Still pinned to the berth, Ultra had turned his head away again, optics almost white from stress and fear. “I know what you want,” he whispered tonelessly. “So, take it and leave me alone. Go ahead, put that… that thing inside me,” he said, falling on false bravado. “That’s all I’m for, aren’t I?”

Megatron growled. “It certainly isn’t!” How dare…? How could Ultra even think that he’d…? Megatron wasn’t a rapist! He had never taken someone by force, and he didn’t intend to start with the former Magnus! Yes, he had grown frustrated by the younger, smaller mech’s lack of reactions to his hints, and the way he kept shying away from him, so to speak, when he would have wanted nothing more than officially consume their union. But he wouldn’t have…! He still had no intention to! Especially now!

Grasping both of Ultra’s wrists with a single hand, he used the other to make the mech turn his head toward him. Ultra’s optics were almost dull with fear, something that irritated Megatron immensely. “I won’t take you against your will,” he stated, detaching each words, speaking slowly to make the mech underneath him understand he really had no intention to hurt him.

The former Magnus let out a shaky breath. “Liar. You kindled mechs are all the same. Always thinking about a single thing…That’s why you have to be kept separated from normal bots,” he whispered. “Can’t trust you… You’re only thinking of hurting us…”

“We don’t…” Megatron started to say, only to be interrupted by a loud, high-pitched cry.

Spark sinking, he raised his head to look over Optimus’ crib. The Sparkling was wide awake, his toy pneuma-lion forgotten and discarded, the cover that had once been covering him threw aside. Large blue optics were looking fearfully at him and Ultra -- well, they were looking fearfully at him, Megatron amended, and worriedly at the smaller mech -- and Optimus’ lips trembled as he started to wail, grabbing the bars of his crib to try and stand up.

The Warlord shuttered his optics for a moment. That was the last thing he needed; an upset Sparkling on top of a terror-filled mate who was in no mood or way able to listen to him, nor to explain what had happened to him.

Optimus’ loud calls in what Megatron supposed was defense of his ‘Mama’ made Ultra react. Turning his head to look at the Sparkling despite Megatron’s hold on his chin, the former Magnus started to try and thrash again.

“Optimus…”

It was barely a whisper, but Megatron heard it. He contemplated for a minute what he should do before sighing and releasing Ultra’s wrists. The smaller mech blinked and looked at him without understanding as Megatron shifted, no longer to pinning him down. “He wants his Mama,” the Warlord said simply. “Calm him down.” Ultra didn’t move, obviously unable to process the fact Megatron was releasing him.

The large grey mech pinched his olfactive sensor. “He is upset, Ultra, and he wants you to take him in your arms,” he said slowly, to make the former Magnus understand. Thankfully, the smaller mech nodded and, sitting up, reached for Optimus. The small mechling snuggled into his Mama’s arms, obviously still upset, and looking at Megatron with a distrust the Decepticon hadn’t seen in a long time.

Fantastic, he thought bitterly. Not only was his Consort terrified of him, but his Sparkling was now thinking he was some kind of monster. Well, that would never do! However, and he had already realized it, any attempt to calm either his mate or Sparkling now would be inefficient or backfire on him. Better let them alone for a moment… and call a medic to check on them both, just in case. Stress could be bad for a Sparkling’s system, and Ultra looked like he could benefit from being sedated.

“Take care of our Sparkling,” he said again as Ultra hugged little Optimus closer to his frame, optics downcast and shoulders shaking still. “Rest,” he added before leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

Even as he punched the locks code, his optics irradiated with fury. Someone was going to pay… if he -- or they, since he had no idea who exactly might have forced himself on Ultra, or when -- was still alive, that’s it.

But one thing at time. First off, he needed to call a medic -- Knock Out or Hook, perhaps, if the mech wasn’t too busy with his own Sparkling. For the sake of Ultra’s nerves, he’d need to prepare one of the guest rooms for himself, if only for tonight -- he didn’t want to upset the mech further as it was. He needed to give orders to the guards to watch out for possible self-harmful behaviour from his Consort, just in case -- if Ultra wasn’t thinking right, if he remained too fearful of Megatron… there was indeed a possibility he did something stupid.

And lastly, since he doubted Ultra would be ready to talk to him any time soon, he needed to track down answers.

And he had the feeling he knew just the ‘bot for that…


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron has questions, and there is one mech he knows he can get them from... Assuming said mech is willing to cooperate.

“Alpha Trion.”

The old mech’s optics snapped open as he raised his head to look at his visitor. He chuckled humorlessly. “Well, well, well. Megatron. I hadn’t been expecting you.” He sat as comfortably as possible on the bank/berth of his cell, raising an optic ridge. “So, to what do I own the pleasure to see Cybertron’s Conqueror in my humble dwelling?”

‘Humble dwelling’ was the nicest way to put it, the old whiskered mech thought briefly. As far as cells went, this wasn’t the worst Alpha Trion had ended up in. Sure, it was rather small, and bare aside of a simple berth, but it was a step up on the last one he had been incarcerated in. Most mechs tended to forget it, but Alpha Trion was old. Very old. And if he had been in a position of power in the Autobot Government, he couldn’t say he had always been friendly with the different powers and administrations that had ruled successively over Cybertron.

Anyway, the point was, he had seen and been in worse places. Upon the Decepticons appearing on Cybertron by the Space Bridges and slowly but surely winning against the Elite Guard and breaching the walls of the Metroplex and Fortress Maximus, Alpha Trion had known what was coming. He had fully expected his incarceration, and perhaps eventually his execution. The execution was the most uncertain part, though.

Alpha Trion had been many things, from Councilman to Rebel Leader to Warrior to Pacifist to Ambassador, depending on what was needed at the time, and what he thought and felt was the right thing to do for the good of Cybertron and its inhabitants at large. Perhaps he had gotten less involved than he should have though; the mess they were currently dealing with was proof enough that he should have make a stand against the notion of erasing kindling far sooner. That wouldn’t have appeased all the Decepticons, but it would have been a step in the right direction.

But he was digressing, was he not?

Alpha Trion knew he held some value, no matter who was in charge, if only because he was old and knew a lot of things, things that most had forgotten. And nobody truly wanted to lose knowledge forever, did they? The Destrons had wanted to, the Protectobots hadn’t wanted to… And he didn’t think the Decepticons wanted to either. Of course, Megatron was rather unpredictable, and perhaps he would indeed decide Alpha Trion was a liability, too dangerous to be left alive. But if Alpha had played his cards right -- and he knew he had; politics were like a second armor to him -- then some of his fellow former Councilmechs, those who had held secret Decepticons’ sympathies or secret Decepticons’ allegiances, were probably already pleading in his favor. Momus and Sherma appreciated him, enough that they would do more than a token effort to try and spare him death.

No, Alpha Trion didn’t think he needed to be overly worried. At the worse, he expected to spend a few hundred or thousands stellar cycles in that cell, and at best, to be assigned at residence for who knew how many vorns, forbidden to enter politics again in the Decepticons’ New Order. That was fine by him; his role as Head of the Guilds Domesticus had taken so much of his time those last thousand stellar cycles he had completely dropped his original functions as an archivist. He knew he could find himself a job here, correcting what the previous administration had tried to erase and adding new material as he discovered fully how the Decepticons had evolved and what they had discovered since their banishment from Cybertron.

Neat, simple and easily done. Now, he just had to serenely wait for his actual trial to come to pass. He knew said trials for all ‘Autobots Criminal of Wars’ were about to start. Those, he had decided, didn’t concern him. He hadn’t been so involved in the war operations one could consider him a criminal. On the downside, it’d mean he’d have to wait longer to know his eventual fate. But, as he had stated, he wasn’t overly worried.

Megatron’s presence, though, came as a surprise. He hadn’t accounted for the Decepticon leader to come and visit him at any point, and his mind scrambled to find a reason -- especially one that didn’t imply his immediate demise.

The warlord snorted. “Humble indeed. I trust the accommodations are to your taste, Councilmech?”

Alpha didn’t raise to the bait, merely raising an optic ridge. “It is quite alright, though the forcefield plus the energy bar might be a tad too much, don’t you think?” he asked, sounding as if he didn’t care.

“With mechs reputed as canny as you are? I’m not about to tempt Unicron,” the warlord deadpanned. “I do read, Councilmech -- even if Autobot’s propaganda would have liked to paint me as nothing more than a boarish, unintelligent savage. I do remember some of the old tales -- especially the one about a mech designated A3, and a certain Quintesson prison…”

Oh, that. “I was a much younger mech, and far more… flexible than I am nowadays,” the whiskered mech replied calmly. “And surely, you don’t think an old mech like me could possibly seduce a guard, do you?” He blinked innocently.

“It does seem unlikely,” the large grey mech acknowledged. “However, I’m not one to trust a mech known for his power of persuasion with anything, no more than I’m about to underestimate the stupidity and lust of some mechs, who are barely able to keep their spikes tucked in their sheats.”

Alpha Trion had to chuckle. He could concede this point to the Warlord; never underestimate how obsessed with fragging some mechs were. How many times, when he had been younger and considered more attractive, had he not used that very thing against his guards, enemies or whoever stood in his way? Age and the gradual enforcing of policies aiming to reduce the act of copulation and eventually of kindling altogether had made him stop overtime, of course, but he wasn’t so rusty yet he couldn’t impress and charm a naive enough mech…

Ah, well. He nodded briefly. “I must again ask what bring Cybertron’s new leader to me, Megatron -- must I refer you by any title, by the way? You refer to me as Councilmech, it would only be polite I follow in your steps, if you want this meeting to be given a semblance of officiality.”

“Lord Megatron will do,” the grey mech said curtly. “But this is not an official visit. Nor is it a courtesy call. I want answer on questions that plague my mind, Councilmech, and I have the feeling you have the answers I seek.”

“Is that so? And what, pray tell, would that be? I can hardly think of any matter you can’t know about or find answer to in the archives. Ultra Magnus made sure to keep clean records, though some may have been so heavily encrypted you’ll need a few stellar cycles to crack them…”

“You underestimate the mechs working under my orders. I already checked this venue, and found nothing over what I seek. You, however… you’re living memory, Councilmech,” Megatron growled. “And, how interesting for you to mention the former Magnus’ name. It is precisely something about my mate I want answer to…”

“Ah. So you did claim Ultra as yours,” Alpha said, cutting him off, optics dimming a bit. “I had wondered. It must not please part of your soldiers, isn’t it?” He saw Megatron stiffen; obviously, he had hit a sore point. “It is expected; the Magnus, the leader of the opposing faction… Of course, you could justify your claim by stating you followed the old traditions of a Kaon wedding; it would probably sooth many of them,” he mentioned easily.

“Kaon wedding?” Megatron blinked, taken aback for a moment.

“Oh, yes. This is old, after all, far older than you, and the Protectobots thought it was quite uncivilized and banned the practice over time, so it doesn’t surprise me that you wouldn’t know about it…" he drawled before coughing. "Well, it was customary for Kaon’s generals and military Elite to engage in ‘war games’ with a potential mate of their choosing. Sometimes, it was even actual battles, though it tended to be frowned upon, given how easily the casualty rate climbed in those cases,” he mused aloud. “Anyway, the point was to see if someone was worthy to become a General’s mate, showing an understanding of strategy and war in order to assist one’s future mate on and out of the battlefield. Kaon has always been very war and fight oriented, as you can guess.”

“Obviously,” Megatron deadpanned. “I don’t see where there’s a Bonding in that.”

“Oh, the Bonding happened after the end of the ‘war games’ or the battle,” Alpha Trion waved off. “The loser, usually the courted mech or femme, agreed to become the winner’s mate. The reverse was rare, but it happened… and I don’t think you want to hear about it, do you? The tradition came from older times, when Kaon didn’t exist yet and the lands was full of warring tribes. Said tribes tended to grow bigger by incorporating smaller, beaten tribes by celebrating unions between the leaders and the high ranking warriors. You want to find a way to justify you taking Ultra Magnus as a mate? Simply state you claim him following the traditional customs of Kaon, of which you’re a proud citizen. You could hardly be faulted for doing so, I’m sure,” Alpha shrugged.

“Fascinating,” Megatron allowed, mind spinning. Yes, very fascinating indeed.

“Isn’t it? I’m sure there’s plenty I could teach you, and any who ask for my wisdom and my knowledge of old lore,” the whiskered mech nodded, testing the waters.

“We’ll see about this Councilmech,” Megatron stated simply, neutrally. “However, I’m not interested in old lore. What concern me is more… recent.”

Alpha Trion bowed his head slightly. “Ask away.”

“It is funny of you to say I ‘claimed’ the former Magnus,” the large grey mech stated. “‘Claiming’ someone, as you put it, would imply that I managed to become quite… ‘intimate’ with them. Such an union has yet to be consummated between Ultra and I. Which bring forth a certain matter, Councilmech”, he said, optics narrowed. “A certain matter that only came to my attention recently, when my lovely mate, with whom I wish to lay, was so startled it became apparent… ‘something’ happened to him.” He tightened his fists, optics narrowing in fury. Alpha Trion stiffened. Oh dear… “It has been known to us for long that you stood as one of Ultra Magnus’ closest confident and, shall we say, friend. If someone has answers, then I’m sure you have. So, tell me, Councilmech… what can you tell me about a certain ‘incident’ that robbed my chosen mate of his ‘innocence’?”

Alpha Trion became utterly still, mouth opening and closing silently over untold words as he processed what he had just heard. His optics observed Megatron’s face intently. There was contempt here, and barely kept-in-check fury. Was there also care underneath? He couldn’t be sure. Megatron, it seemed, had an excellent poker face. That was… bothersome. The ancient mech just couldn’t decide what the Decepticon leader was furious about; was he genuinely upset ‘something’ might happened to Ultra beforehand… or was he furious someone had beaten him to the Magnus?

Now, Megatron hadn’t seemed the type to take advantage of someone, or at least he hadn’t been when Alpha Trion had first glanced at him, millions of stellar cycles ago. However, a war had come and gone, and propaganda had muddied the waters considerably, to such a point that nowaday, Alpha Trion couldn’t quite remember where was the truth and where started the exaggerations or outright lies. Megatron had never been caught dragging a captive to his berthchamber, like some of his soldiers did, but who knew? It wasn’t as if everybody had caught what was the meaning of such an act, unless they had experienced it.

He stared some more at the Warlord, silent. It seemed to unnerve the large grey mech, whose optics narrowed.

“Well?”

“Did you force yourself on Ultra?” the whiskered mech asked flatly, trying to keep his expression neutral. He was rewarded with a threatening growl.

“Don’t say anything stupid, Councilmech! I have never swoop so low as to threaten or force myself on someone, and I won’t start with on one I intend to grace my berth of his own free will!”

“‘Free will’, you say? Could have fooled me,” the old mech mumbled back, though now he was eyeing Megatron with more consideration. “‘Free will’ matters little when one is in the hand of his jailors, Lord Megatron. I would expect you to know that.”

“‘Free will’ is still exercised when one has all his wits, and when said jailors know better than push past certain limits,” Megatron countered. “I admit that sometimes patience must run low, when said limits prove themselves unbendable or take too long to be bended, but to actually force the deed on a resisting mech? There’s no honor in that, and I fully believe in punishing those who do.”

Alpha Trion raised an optic ridge. “Including yourself?”

Megatron’s face broke into a sneer. “I may be leader of my people, but I’m not above the laws, especially not in such matters!”

“A noble way to think,” Alpha Trion acknowledged, bowing his head slightly. “Though I’m curious; would you punish those who brutally did the ‘deed’ the same way you would punish those who plotted and used manipulation to get what they wanted? The way I see things, the very fact to have Ultra in your berth would border on dubious consent…”

Megatron’s scowl was very eloquent, and Alpha gathered that the question might already be something the mech was debating. That said, war-frames didn’t exactly understand ‘dubious consent’, if the old mech remembered right. For most of them, who had simple processors, interfacing was either fully consensual or entirely forced. Most of the grunts didn’t understand there existed a range of darker ways to get ‘consent’. The higher ups, the educated ones? They knew, understood, and could swoop down to such levels of depravity if it suited them.

It was… reassuring, somewhat, to see that Megatron was obviously unnerved by the possibility his relationship with Ultra Magnus would be so, even if he tried to not show it. That boded well for Ultra… though he doubted his old friend was rational or pragmatic enough to see it.

“It’s funny you would speak of a ‘plot’,” Megatron suddenly snapped, optics shining in such an intent way that Alpha almost tried to back off and hide in a corner of his cell. “Because from where I stand, I see one, one that is so twisted and wrong that your propaganda services would have loudly claimed belonged to us ‘Cons.”

That made the whiskered mech blink. “Excuse me? What are you even…?”

“Ultra was raped,” Megatron said flatly, and to hear it said aloud, so crudely, not even veiled by vague terms, made Alpha Trion wince, shoulders sagging as he was forced once again to remember that it had indeed happened. “While I know such occurrence happened before the war, and far more often than I’d like to contemplate, I find it highly suspicious that the one Prime that was considered likely to take Powered Convoy’s succession, and who indeed ended up elected as Magnus, would have suffered through such an event. Especially,” he added, optics narrowed, “when it is known traumatized mechs can end up with extreme reactions when confronted to the very notion of interfacing. And, as if it wasn’t sufficient, at the very same time, the ruling Council was trying to enforce restrictions and eventually ban interfacing and kindling Sparklings altogether? My, what a strange series of coincidences!”

His voice dripped with sarcasm, and his opics flashed dangerously again. “I swear to Primus, Councilmech… I swear that if you and your ilk arranged for him to be raped in order to use him to further your agenda, there’ll be energon running on the floor long after your frames have greyed!”

A lesser mech, Alpha thought, would probably start shaking and covering. Thankfully, Alpha Trion didn’t think he was a lesser mech. And he needed to clear a certain misconception right away.

“There was no plot,” he said simply, neutrally, carefully enunciating each word. “At least, not of the kind you suspect.”

“Elaborate.” The answer was brisk, short, to the point. Megatron crossed his arms over his chest, optics narrowed.

“I, and the Council at large, had nothing to do with… what happened to Ultra. On this, I can give you my word. Ultra is a friend -- which I admit can be strange, considering our great age difference. What most people don’t know, and what I’m willing to share with you, is that I shared a similar friendship with the mech who saw to Ultra’s frame design and protoforming,” he stated calmly, making Megatron raise an optic ridge in interest.

“He wasn’t batch-protoformed? He was a custom?”

That was… very interesting. Protoforming mechs was usually done in batches, with all members of said batches sharing a similar mold, with a few minor differences to allow easy recognition. Over time, individual started to custom their armor or helm in order to stand out, but the fact remained they still shared a frame type with their batch siblings.

To be custom-protoformed was rarer, and something Autobots seldom did anymore, unless they were trying to come up with special mods or with ameliorations such as a lower fuel intake. Megatron had the vague recollection, from Shockwave’s reports, that Ultra Magnus’ former Second had been a custom-protoformed model. He hadn’t know that his chosen mate was one too, though. Then again, perhaps he should have guessed; Ultra shared little similarities with his fellow Autobots, though it could be argued most of it came from the upgrades he had underwent to become Magnus…

In the past, however, people applied and had to obtain a licence to create a custom protoformed mech. Most often, mechs who did so wanted to have an heir without having to go through the ‘trouble’ of finding a mate and Siring or Carrying a Sparkling, and then having to wait for said Sparkling to grow up. It was a bit uncommon, but perfectly acceptable and understood. Many Autotroopers had been created that way, for example.

Alpha Trion nodded. “Indeed he was. My old friend Dion’s pride and joy. I remember how hard he worked on those designs, asking for my input in order to correct some defaults…” He shook his head. “He sadly offlined in an industrial accident shortly after to Ultra’s activation without naming an heir or a legal council to settle his estate and in turn, Ultra’s custody was reverted to the government, as it is customary for newly onlined protoform. As such, he was raised with a batch of regular protoformed mechs. I tended to drop by every now and then, and mentored him until he decided to join the Autobots and try his luck at being a Prime.” He stopped speaking and threw his head back, shuttering his optics as he remembered the youthful, happy mech Ultra had been back then. Young Ultra had been a very likeable individual. The Magnus he had become… not so much. Still, nobody could ever accuse him of being dishonest.

Megatron coughed, breaking off Alpha reminiscing without needing to say a word, and the old mech felt a pang of gratitude. If he dwelled too much on the past now, he risked to become far too emotional to keep this conversation level. He forced himself to continue.

“I considered Ultra a friend, as I said, and I never wished him any ill. Indeed, I was horrified when I first learned he had been admitted in a clinic, so long ago, for serious damages to his valve.” Megatron flinched slightly; Alpha Trion couldn’t blame him. He remembered far too well that handful of solar cycles, when he had rushed at Ultra’s berthside, and damn with his growing responsibilities in the Guild Domesticus of which he hadn’t been Head yet at the time. The sigh that had greeted him… Ultra’s optics… his absence of emotional reactions… his obliviousness at Alpha's precense, and his hysteria crisis when a nurse had tried to clean between his legs…

Yes. So many signs that had heralded what the future would hold. Alpha sometimes felt stupid for not having noticed them right away.

He continued. “That something so horrible would happen to such a bright, charismatic and popular individual seemed unthinkable,” he stated flatly. “Ultra Prime was already rumored as being a future Magnus, once Powered Convoy decided to step down. It made no sense to target someone who would probably one day rule the whole planet and the Commonwealth. And still, it had happened. Ultra was obviously quite… struck and deeply marked by what happened to him that solar cycle, though he hid it well and came to pretend nothing had happened. Insofar as I know, all reports from this era state he was hospitalized for a time due to a training injury.” The old whiskered mech sighed. “I had advised him to seek council with specialists, but as he was bent over denying he needed help, I didn’t insist. I should have, I realize it, but I was just his friend. I couldn’t force him into anything. And, at the same time, others people were starting to sink their claws in him,” he stated with obvious distaste.

“The Council,” Megatron said, needing no other prompting.

Alpha Trion nodded. “Mainly the Senators, and not so much the civilian-elected members, but yes. I know some visited Ultra at the clinic -- pure courtesy, and ‘care’. Oh, but they were so ‘worried’ such a promising warrior had been injured, they needed to know how he was and see him by themselves!” he said with a falsetto voice before snorting. “Slaggers, the lot of them. It took me long to forgive them -- and some, I haven’t forgiven altogether.”

“So they set him up?” Megatron asked, voice carrying his fury. He was right; he knew those mechs had... 

“Surprisingly, no,” Alpha Trion answered, shaking his head and startling the Warlord. He gave Megatron a wry look. “I must admit, I shared your suspicions, once upon a time. The timing was just too perfect; not even a thousand stellar cycles before Powered Convoy step down, his most likely successor suffer through a violent rape that leaves him so shaken he can’t even stand the idea of interfacing or that the process can be pleasurable? That the act itself holds no pain, no discomfort, no trauma if done with care and love, as it should be? Of course I didn’t believe it was a coincidence! Something fool was happening, for sure!” His optics flashed briefly, then his shoulders sagged. “I dug as deep as I could over the stellar cycles, trying to find proof, something, anything that I could show Ultra, to persuade him to rethink some of his decisions. But I found absolutely nothing. Nothing at all to suggest anyone from the Senate was involved.”

“... That doesn’t mean they weren’t,” Megatron managed to work out, fists shaking.

“No, it doesn’t,” Alpha acknowledged. “But as far as I know, they didn’t order, suggest or even imply in any form that Ultra should be… ‘dealt with’. What happened to him, as monstruous as it was, really was the deed of a random, vicious and filthy attacker, who saw no qualm in assaulting a fellow Cybertronian. But,” he sighed, “it was just too much an opportunity for them to waste, as you can guess.” He stopped speaking, letting Megatron connect the dots by himself.

It took a moment, but then the Warlord clenched his jaw, optics narrowing.

“They used his own trauma against him, didn’t they?” Alpha Trion stayed silent, and he continued. “Of course they did. If he was so convinced interfacing could only bring pain, then he would see nothing wrong with going along with the Senate’s plans to ban it -- even if that meant stopping kindling altogether, and trusting the creation of new Cybertronians solely on the Allspark. Which in turn lead to the Decepticon Registration Act…”

“... of which one clause mentioned, under legal terms, that all registered mechs would undergo a ‘sterilization’ process,” Alpha Trion finished. “Yes, I know. I assisted in the debates that lead to the redaction of the first drafts. I remember how vocals some members of the Council were, whatever side they were on. It gave me an headache that lasted several solar cycles,” he mentioned casually.

“How dreadful,” the Warlord said dryly. “I wonder how they could only hope it’d work. Few Decepticons were literate, or at least literate enough to fully understand legalities, but they weren’t idiots either. The talks about the Registrations had started even under Powered Convoy, and even then we suspected something was, as organics put it, ‘fishy’ about the whole thing. I doubt most understood they were going to be ‘castrated’ and ‘sterilized’, but they certainly understood they were supposed to be ‘demilitarized’, their weapons and combat mods taken away. And for a warrior, this simple acts was already unacceptable. So tell me, Councilmech, what were you thinking?”

The older mech shrugged. “Honestly, I can hardly answer that. I’m not, as some of the redactors were, an idiot. Don’t ask me to guess what might have crossed their CPU, asides perhaps of a very twisted way to stay in power and govern over masses of ignorants who they considered barely more than drones.”

Megatron grunted. “Idiots, the lot of them. I saw more valor in an handful of poor miners and factory workers than I saw in the entire Council and Senate.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have found exceptions, did you not? It did not escape my notice that a ‘handful’, as you put it, of my fellow Councilmechs are still free. May I ask how is Senator Mirage, for example?” he asked innocently. “I trust he is well, as well as his mate?”

The Warlord’s optics narrowed. “I see that despite rusting in a cell, you’re still well-informed. However, I see little harm in informing you that the former Senator is well, and that his Carrying mate and their two offsprings are due to come back to Cybertron in the coming orbital cycle. The former Senator was very… generous upon our takeover, freely distributing wealth to some of our citizens and giving away several of his properties to be razed or otherwise reconstructed to create new housings.”

“Hmm, yes, it does sound like something he would do,” the whiskered mech mused aloud.

Nobody would ever accuse Mirage of being an idiot -- or of being unfair. The younger mech loved to champion causes that opposed the ruling administration. Already in the past, he had gotten noticed when he had challenged the creation of the DRA, loudly, even if he had joined and enlisted with the Autobot movement in the end when the war had started. That hadn’t been enough to quell the rumors he was a spy for the Decepticons, of course, but nobody had ever accused him outright of being so. However, his influence in the Senate had been greatly diminished, as he was generally considered, if not traitorous, then at least untrustworthy.

That hadn’t seemed to bother the mech that much, though. Mirage had made himself a name as a philanthropist over the stellar cycles, founding charities and spectacles, as well as giving money to preservation funds for some of the colonies’ ecosystems and wildlife.

His accountability was clear and transparent; nobody could prove or even suggest he was giving money to the Decepticon’s cause… though the preserves he helped maintain could always serve as great hiding places, could they not?

Personally, Alpha Trion doubted Mirage had ever spied for anyone or anything. Simply, he had let his sympathies known, and for someone wanting to make a smooth takeover of Cybertron, acting on those sympathies was indispensable. With so many mechs incarcerated, so many mechs being reduced to mere Sparklings, so many seized wealth… There needed someone to help coordinate, and there needed someone to help make the transition and uncover were some of the secret funds were hidden. Mechs like Momus and Sherma probably knew some, but mechs like Mirage knew everything -- because, since they weren’t trusted at large, they needed to keep their optics and audios tuned up to avoid getting caught in a scheme that would end up with them arrested.

So yes, Alpha Trion had gathered Mirage wouldn’t be bothered that much by the Decepticons. Especially not since he was a noble -- and nobles still had something most Autobots didn’t have anymore, did they not?

“I suppose it is,” Megatron had the good grace to acknowledge. “Though I am surprised that, given their impatience at robbing the general population of kindling and Ultra’s trauma and willingness to get rid of it altogether, nobles and Senators still kept the right to create and kindle their own offsprings.”

Which was galling to say the least, Alpha Trion knew. Refusing that right to the commoners, and do it yourself being closed doors? It still surprised him Ultra Magnus had allowed it, considering how traumatizing his encounter with interfacing had been. But, then again, he had needed to have every member of the Senate and the Council on his side, to present an united front in the wake of the Decepticons’ declaration of war. Compromises had been made; let the nobles and richs kindle if they wanted to… but as far away as possible from the Magnus’ optics.

Nobles’ Bonded tended to live offworld, in some discrete colonies or secondary proprieties, where they could hide their Carrying cycles behind high walls and closed doors. Sparklings grew in secrecy, and were presented to the general public as adult only. People just tended to think they were custom-protoformed mechs created especially by the nobles, and nobody was the wiser. Ultra Magnus looked the other way, so long nobody rubbed the fact into his face and nobody spoke of it aloud.

So simple… and so misleading.

“Ah, but you know how the powerfuls are, don’t you, Megatron? From their point of view, it’s perfectly alright to hold double standards, shall we say, especially if it’s to guarantee that Cybertron will be only in the hands of a small, restricted Elite,” the old mech mentioned casually.

For, Alpha Trion had long decided, it was the true beauty of the Decepticon Registration Act and the ensuing war -- war most Senators had planned upon and eagerly waited, he had no doubt. Not only, if they won the Wars -- and the idiots never thought they could lost -- would they get rid of the Decepticons either by genocide or exile, thus getting rid of the largest group of mechs using sexued reproduction in the Commonwealth, but by benefiting from the ensuing chaos, they could erase all references to Sparklings and Carrying from the archives. And, in the end, they remained the sole people aware and able to kindle on the planet, thus creating a ruling elite, which would be descended from them, and making sure the power would never leave their literal hands.

The Magnus was an elective position, of course… but you could still arrange to ‘elect’ the right person, and skillfully manipulate him or her. Point with Ultra, though their manipulations had come crashing down wherever he was concerned, for aside of approving of the Decepticon Registration Act, Ultra Magnus had ruled alone, without being overly influenced.

Politics… why had he decided to go into it again? Ah, yes, he had been bored out of his CPU. He doubted Megatron fully grasped the extent of the manipulations and plans that had been put in place over the stellar cycles to have the Decepticons on the run, and he prefered to keep quiet about it. Megatron’s fury was akin to legendary, and he personally prefered not to witness it, especially when he was locked in close quarters with said legend.

Thankfully, the grey mech had other preoccupations that stopped him to dwell too much on hidden meanings. “Trust me, it’s not something I’ll allow to happen again,” the Warlord sneered angrily.

“I’m sure it won’t,” came the dry answer. How many times had he heard that again? Far too much to count. Then again, most mechs who said those words held up to their promises. Their heirs, as time went? Not so much. He held silent on that point, though.

From the way Megatron’s optics narrowed, Alpha Trion guessed he wasn’t convinced by his answer, but he didn’t press the point. “As distracting as this conversation is, Councilmech, I fear we have derived from our original subject, have we not? I asked you who robbed my mate of his innocence, and I expect a name.”

Alpha Trion tilted his head to the side. “Did Ultra not tell you himself, that you need a proxy to give you a name and a description?”

Megatron’s optics darkened. “I fear my mate was too shaken by… circumstances to be able to be of much help. Indeed, he was most reluctant to even admit something had happened to him, and he reacted badly upon me trying to probe him for more information.” It was underestimating the severity of the reaction, of course, but Alpha Trion didn’t have to know. Then again… Perhaps if he stressed out how badly Ultra was affected, the Councilmech would found himself more… loquacious.

Megatron continued. “When I left the residence, it was to leave him in the capable hands of a medic to sedate him and assure he wouldn’t hurt himself so no, I wasn’t able to ask him anything. But you, Councilmech… since you like to say he’s your friend, I’m sure you’ll be able to give me something to work with?” he said almost affably, showing far too much teeth for Alpha Trion’s comfort.

“That bad, then?” the old whiskered mech sighed, dropping his gaze to stare at his hands.

“That bad, yes,” Megatron growled. “I’m tired to wait for an answer, Councilmech. Tell me what you know. Or perhaps you’d prefer me to start with what I know?” He leaned forward, just shy of touching the forcefield protecting the cell. “I know he was… assaulted by a kindled mech. Now, despite the fact there were and still are some kindled Autobots, I don’t think he meant one. After all, the former Magnus is tall for a protoformed mech -- and for a civilian in general. Which means,” he added with narrowed optics, “that whoever put his dirty paws on him has to be a war-frame. All the war-frames taller than him -- and all war-frames in general -- joined the Decepticons. Which bring me to the infuriating conclusion that one of my own troops touched what is mine!” He finished the sentence snarling, shaking in fury. “I want a name, and I want it now!”

“Tss. If one listened to you, you’d think it’s the first time one of your soldiers misbehaved with a civilian, a captive or even another of your troops,” Alpha shook his head, looking at him intently. “I dare to hope you’re not naive enough to think what happened to Ultra was the only time something akin happened?”

That seemed to make the Warlord deflate slightly. “I”m not that naive, no,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “But I’ve always made sure such actions were swiftly and severely dealt with -- and I intend to continue prosecute those having been found guilty of such crimes, or suspected of so. Now that we have Cybertron back and our victory is total, I will be able to do some… ‘cleaning up’ in my own ranks.”

“That… might actually be reassuring, despite the way you present it,” Alpha Trion mused, pulling on one of hi whiskers. “I know I’d recharge better knowing some sick, twisted Sparks out of here have been extinguished.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” the Warlord said rhetorically. “Now, enough stalling, Councilmech. Who? Or do I have to try and hunt down another source?”

Alpha Trion just looked at him for a long while, which Megatron found unnerving. He shuffled and opened his mouth to ask again when the Councilmech finally sighed.

“His name would tell you nothing, for it belongs to a dead mech. If you had any dream of revenge, then they’re crushed. From what I heard and later had confirmed, he didn’t live long past the first stages of the war -- which is probably for the better, don’t you think?”

Megatron’s optics narrowed. “You lie,” he hissed.

“Do I?” came the easy answer. “I’m hardly lying. I have the proof a mech matching Ultra’s shaky description and the nanite-print found on him did offline early in the conflict. With that in mind, does that mech’s identity matter so much?”

“It matters to me!”

Alpha Trion just tilted his head. “Does it? Ask yourself this: what is the most important? Knowing the name of the culprit, or know what he did to your ‘mate’?” He sighed. “That name, Ultra Magnus never shared; him and him alone could give it to you, should he wish to. With me, with the medics who treated him in the aftermath of the assault, with the Autotroopers who took his statement, he only shared a vague description: a tall, huge mech, darkly colored, optics as red as one of the Suns of Velocitron, voice booming when he spoke,... Pretty generic for a war-frame, isn’t it?”

Megatron said nothing. He had to admit, yes, it was pretty much a bland description of any Decepticon. Most of them were tall, towering over the civilian-type frames -- even the kindled ones. Most of them prefered dark or tan colors to the bright ones favored by the Autobots. Most of them had red optics -- though yellow and purples weren’t rare, and some few ones spotted blue, green, pink or orange ones. “If that all he gave you to work with, how did you track down who his possible… rapist… was?”

“Deduction, mostly,” Alpha Trion confided. “There weren’t that many war-frames stationed around the places Ultra liked to hang around -- and not that many who would have fit a profile like the one I was seeking for. Autotroopers didn’t dwell much and closed the case quickly enough. Myself? I used connection and the nanites taken on Ultra to try and narrow possibilities.”

He leaned back against the wall and sighed. “Do not overthink too much, Megatron. The mech you seek is long gone. Your revenge, if that what you sought, has been robbed from you. What you can do, instead of hunting down that slagger and offer his head and empty Sparkchamber to Ultra, would be to try and comfort him. Don’t you think so?”

“... I’m afraid I’m not so good at comforting.” Megatron didn’t know why he had admitted it. Perhaps because he was more off-balance than he had first thought. His admission didn’t seem to surprise the old mech, though, who just nodded.

“Not many of us are so gifted. Still, if you truly intend to have Ultra as your ‘equal’, perhaps it is time for you to start and learn. Surely, it isn’t above such a great mech as you?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Alpha Trion,” Megatron warned, optics flashing briefly. “And assuming I want to comfort my distraught mate, how do you think I should do it?”

“Given the special circumstances surrounding your… ‘courtship’ and ‘claiming’ of him as your mate? I’d suggest to start with finding a way to make him trust you,” the old mech said mirthlessly.

Megatron raised an optics ridge. “Oh? And how do you suggest I do so?”

Alpha Trion’s optics shone briefly. “Now that? I think it’s something you’re better off figuring out by yourself…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3, done. \o/  
> Honestly, I don't know when the next 'full' chapter of 'Leader Lives' will come. However, several prompts were handed to me and written in answer to the Prompt Party, so I'll post them here later on.  
> Next, another story in the verse, dealing with another character(s). ;)


	4. Prompt Party Reply: Megatron/Ultra- Learning to live together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An answer to a prompt handed to me by a friend, which helped me with the block I was on with that part of the fic. Enjoy :)

Megatron was… confusing.

Ultra Magnus couldn’t help but be puzzled by everything he did and everything he said -- and, worse of all, the former Magnus couldn’t decide if the Warlord did it on purpose or not. He was so infuriating at times that it gave the young… ish mech processor aches. He should have been on edge -- and he was, in fact, because that was MEGATRON, and he obviously had ulterior motives. But, at the same time, Ultra… wasn’t.

As annoying and puzzling as it was, the former Magnus realized he was starting to trust the Warlord. Somewhat.

After… after THAT night, the large grey mech never raised a hand again toward him, nor did he try to… ‘make him notice certain things’ again, which was a relief. He took the habit of recharging in another room about one night on two, to give Ultra’s some ‘place’. He started to respect Ultra’s personal space and didn’t try to force contact such as hugs or kisses -- and even when they shared a berth, Megatron took care of staying on his side of the berth, never reaching for him.

More than that, Ultra thinks bemused, he actually gave the former Magnus a mean to ‘keep himself safe’. The blue and white mech can only glance down at himself and think of the additional, locked magnetic panel installed under his interface panel. A ‘chastity belt’, as Megatron put it, to protect his ‘virtue’. There was only two keys to that lock, one owned by a medic just in case, and the other…

The other, Megatron had given it to him. That was so unexpected that Ultra had stood frozen for a long while.

“Keep it. Hear me out. You don’t trust me, fine. I won’t ask you to change your mind now and then -- there are obviously too many issues we need to work on for that. But I want to give you proof I don’t intend you harm -- and certainly not THAT kind of harm. So let me give you a proof, small as it is, that I mean you and Optimus well. Keep that key on yourself, or hide it. I don’t care. Just… think about it all, will you?

The former Magnus shook his head and tried to concentrate on Optimus, who was trying to catch his attention. Megatron was puzzling… and he just knew he’d have another headache thinking about it all again.


	5. Prompt Party Reply: Project Regen - Optimus, Ultra Magnus, Megatron - Mid-vorn presents

“What the Pit is that?!”

Megatron looked behind his shoulders, looking disapprovingly at his mate. The blue and white mech stood frozen in the doorway, not daring to come closer, watching with large, incredulous optics the mechs coming and going through the room, carrying wrapped gifts and organizing them in neat piles. The Warlord’s gaze softened, though, as he caught sight of the bundle in the former Magnus’s arms. Wrapped in a cover, fast asleep with just his helm and his small fist visible, Optimus looked very serene and utterly adorable.

“You shouldn’t swear before our Sparkling,” he said, glancing again at Ultra’s face.

The mech frowned. “Optimus isn’t our Sparkling,” he repeated for what felt like the thousandth time -- and it probably was. It never seemed to deter Megatron, though, who still referred to the Prime -- former Prime -- as if he was their common Creation. “And you didn’t answer my question; what is going on here?” There; no swearing. Given how Megatron tried to be… agreeable to him, he would humour him and be polite.

“I thought you would have remembered it’s is Mid-Vorn Celebration tomorrow,” the Warlord said smoothly. “Surely, you know the myths and how the traditional festivities go?”

Ultra frowned. “You mean the anniversary of Solus’ Forging? And the custom of gifts exchanges? Of course I do. It’s not… wasn’t celebrated much anymore, but I know of it. What…?” He paused before groaning. “Don’t tell me those are presents for me and Optimus?”

“Well, mostly Optimus, but yes,” Megatron chuckled. “After all, it’s the night Solus’ Spirit comes to Cybertron and give gifts to the nice Sparklings,” he teased. “And we Decepticons made sure to always uphold the old customs about the celebration.”

“Ridiculous,” Ultra mumbled, looking around with narrowed optics. Just how many packages had the Warlord managed to cram in this room? Was he expecting Optimus to open them all? Was he crazy? Oh, wait. It was Megatron; of course he was. But in that case, he grudgingly admitted, his insanity was harmless. “Solus’ Spirit is a legend, nothing more,” he still added, for he was always reluctant to say aloud that the Decepticon leader might have had a good idea.

Megatron just shrugged. “Who knows? But I fully expect Optimus to be here in the morning, opening with the help of his Mama,” he smirked. “Oh, and Ultra? We will be expecting guests for lunch and dinner tomorrow. Optimus will have a playdate with his friends, and you might have some conversation with… former associates.”

Ultra twitched. How… condescending! But, on the other end, he longed for the company of Autobots who weren’t reduced to speak in binary, when they could speak at all. So he nodded.

“Very well. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put Optimus back in his crib.” He paused briefly, debating with himself over what he should or could say. “Megatron?... Thank.”

The Warlord’s optics flashed briefly. “You’re most welcome… Dear.”


	6. Prompt Party Reply: Project Regen- Optimus, Ultra Magnus- a trip out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a family outing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline wise, I'm not sure where it fits, as I had plans to make Blitzwing appears in 'Baby Woes', before he even started his 'theme park' project. I'll... have to think about it later, I guess XD  
> For now, enjoy <3

Megatron was… utterly confusing, Ultra decided. One moment he practically forbade him and Optimus to set a single pede out of his lavish mansion, and the next he was picking up Optimus, cooing, and taking them out on a ‘family trip’. Ultra kept pointing out they weren’t a family, but it never seemed to faze the Decepticon leader. He just chuckled, offered his arm for Ultra to take while holding Optimus with the other and prompted him to come, as they were followed by his cohorts of ‘bodyguards’.

Today was such a day. Going outside was rare as it was, so Ultra Magnus wasn’t going to spit at Megatron’s ‘generosity’ but still…

It was a very strange outing the Warlord had chosen for them.

“So you say this is called a… ‘theme park’?” he inquired politely as they walked the clear alleys of said park, the former Magnus looking right and left with narrowed optics. The place was… well, in his memories, this place had been an unoccupied area that had been waiting for a new fabric to open up. Now it was a place of… of socializing for Sparklings and Younglings, he guessed.

There were a lot of games he recognized, albeit at a much larger scale. He had spotted slides and swings, like the little one Optimus had in the garden, and also an area with some sort of toys car that Sparklings could sit in to bump into each others -- which he found very strange, given that, as Cybertronians, they could change into vehicules. Drones walked in the alleys, pushing trolleys full of toys or energon treats to buy. They smelled good, Ultra had to acknowledge, though he said nothing.

“Indeed, my dear,” Megatron rumbled pleasantly. “Blitzwing’s latest project. He was very inspired by some of the things he saw on Earth and decided the concept was viable for our own youngs. I’m not exactly convinced by those ‘roller coaster’ things, but apparently Younglings who tested them were very approving. It’s not something for young Sparklings, though. But come; there’s a carousel near by Optimus can get in to play.”

“A carousel?” Ultra asked warily, as he glanced down at Optimus, still cuddled into the Warlord’s massive arms. “What’s that?”

“Something our son should have fun with,” Megatron answered smoothly, and Ultra scowled. Was that supposed to be an answer? Honestly, he wondered if the Warlord truly knew more about this place than the former Magnus did. He was starting to have serious doubts.

But at least, Optimus seemed to be in a good mood, so he supposed it was okay…


	7. Prompt Party Reply: Project Regen- Baby Optimus- Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sparkling-turned Optimus sometimes wonders if everything he's living isn't just a dream...

When he had been first onlined and had spent his first cycles at a processing factory, one of the overseers had told Optimus one could get used to everything, providing one had enough motivation or enough time.

Sometimes, the Prime-turned-Sparkling thought back about that piece of advice, and had to agree. One could get used to pretty much anything with time. How else to explain he was actually starting to… like Megatron?

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. It was Megatron, after all, the Warlord, the Decepticon Leader, a mech who had almost offlined him and his team, and who had had no qualms fighting them and causing them grievous injuries. He was everything Optimus had been taught to fear and to fight against.

And still, he picked the diminutive Optimus in his arms with incredible care. He held him close to his frame and rubbed little circles in his back, gently soothing him as he rocked him in his arms. He spent his time bringing Optimus toys and energon goodies, and didn’t hesitate to kneel to the floor to ‘play’ with him.

It felt like a dream. A very weird, unending dream. Optimus should have minded, but the more time went, the least he did. It wasn’t as if he could do much anyway, he kept reasoning. He was smaller than a human in his current form. He couldn’t properly walk and spent most of his time crawling on all four. He couldn’t even talk, for the Allspark’s sake! How could he hope to escape without those small but important skills? Not to mention, even if he had been able to, he would have been reluctant to leave Ultra Magnus behind.

That too was something he was getting used. Being carried around by Ultra Magnus and sucking fluid out of the weird pouches items on his chest, he meant. As weird as it had been in the beginning, it was becoming routine, and he had to admit the fluid was good and warm and he always felt so full he ended up slipping into recharge without even noticing…

Yes, a dream, Optimus thought again as he turned in his ‘crib’, only to see Megatron’s red optics watching over him. A dream he could accept to live in… provided he could be certain the Magnus and his friends, and the Autobots as a whole were fine.


End file.
